“I tell thee, sirrah, thou’lt mend thy clownish ways of thinking if thou’rt to remain in Mountjoy Hall. We’ll have no rebel firebrands—no ale-house ranters with their crazy mouthings,—stirring up our yeomanry through thee. While I hold the fee of Mountjoy, every man-jack in cot or in castle must be a loyal subject of the King and of his liege lord.”
At this my squire made a low bow and said:
“I thank you then, my lord, for all your kindness, and will say farewell. I can say naught but the truth for either friend or foe.”
“Cedric!” cried my mother, “thou canst not mean it. Think what Mountjoy means to thy fortunes; and think again of the good-will we all bear thee. Say to Lord Mountjoy that those were but thoughtless words, and be our man again.”
Cedric shook his head, but trusted not his voice to speak. Thereat my father drew from his pouch a purse of gold and offered him.
“Thou hast given the Mountjoy right loyal service. Take this in token.”
But Cedric again shook his head.
“Nay, my lord, such service as I gave was not for gold, and I cannot receive it. With your leave, I will take the steed that was the Carleton’s, and since called mine, and ride away from Mountjoy where my words and thoughts are dangerous.”
More talk there was and further urgings from my mother and from me; but Cedric’s will remained unmoved. Lord Mountjoy paced back and forth before the hearth with hands clasped behind his back and with a deeply furrowed brow. The Forester bowed low again and left the hall; and soon thereafter we heard the tramp of his horse on the drawbridge. Then I took me to the battlements and watched my loyal squire and comrade till his figure grew dim and disappeared on the road that lay to the south and east, toward London town.
Three mournful days went by. Word came that the peasantry of DeLancey Manor had been herded up by the Constable and his lancers, and that two of the ringleaders had been hanged. Although my father gave the messenger who brought this news a broad piece of gold, it seemed to bring him but little cheer to know that the slayers of his friend had met their punishment. There was but little talk in Mountjoy Hall; the rain fell dismally without; the days were dark and cold; and e’en our good log fire seemed powerless to brighten them.